


Brave and Gentle and Strong

by Am0nSiddhartha



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Am0nSiddhartha/pseuds/Am0nSiddhartha
Summary: A Game of Thrones AU where Ned Stark had plans for Jon and Sansa.





	1. Prologue

    “I don’t want someone brave and gentle and strong! I want him!”

   Ned had the Septa take Arya and Sansa and remained in the room with only his thoughts. He collapsed in his desk chair and stared once again at the tome before him. Sansa’s words had gotten into his and  
now he scoured the Baratheon family lineage. The words on the pages revealed the truth of Joffrey’s parentage, no all of Cersei’s children.  The knowledge of this secret would upend King’s Landing. Maybe even threaten Robert’s claim. Knowing it alone placed him and his house in grave danger. He must get Arya and Sansa to safety. The Lannisters would do anything to protect their secret.

   As he spent the next hour thinking of all the ramifications of what he had learned, Ned’s mind grew tired. And a tired mind wanders in strange places. Robert was not the man he remembered. He definitely had been a better warrior than he was a king. Enemies even now conspired to topple the Baratheons and reinstate the Targaryens on the Iron Throne. He knew nothing of this Viserys and Danerys Targaryen across the Narrow Sea, but he did know another Targaryen; one hidden since the rebellion. Robert had promised him a union of their houses. Ned believed another union could alleviate the coming chaos created by the true nature of Cersei’s brood and allow him to trump the claims of the Targaryens across the sea.

   Ned would have to be very careful. Heads would roll; but he could not only save his family and house, but improve their fortunes. _My dear Sansa. I will make you a match of someone who is worthy of you._

 

 ❦

 

   “You two get out of here before I tell your fa’!”

   Rob and Jon ran along the keep courtyard. As the heir of Winterfell, Rob Stark had the freedom to roam and wander wherever he pleased. Jon Snow did not have that freedom. But Robb never treated Jon like the bastard of Winterfell.  The little slights and discourtesy that were imperceptible to Rob were absent in their dealings with Winterfell’s staff, servants, and small folk. Only Lady Catelyn Stark made sure he always knew that he was a Snow, not a Stark.

   Rob and Jon would clash wooden swords and joust with sticks; pretending to be the great Ser Ryam Redwyne and Ser Clement Crabb. In the yard they held their imaginary tourney with Sansa, who had somehow escaped the constant attention of her doting mother, Lady Catelyn. Even at this precious age, Sansa was radiant. She sat and judged the contest between the boys. Rob played Ser Redwyne while Jon was Ser Crabb. Normally Rob would win, but on this occasion Jon won their little game by the rules they had ordained.

   “Lady Alysane. I proclaim you the Queen of Love and Beauty.” Jon proffered a crown of winter roses he and Rob had secreted away from the glass gardens. Beaming with surprise, Sansa released a glowing smile and bowed her head to receive the honor. In that moment Jon noted Sansa’s icy blue Tully eyes. They seemed to absorb and brighten the color of the roses at the same time. Thus crowned Sansa stood upon the bale of hay to wave at the imaginary crowd.

   Only it was not so imaginary. As Sansa stood she first noticed Lady Catelyn and the boys turned to notice what had drawn Sansa’s attention.

   “Lady Stark.”

   “Mother, me and Jon were playing knights. Jon crowned Sansa Queen of Love and Beauty.”

   “He did did he?” Catelyn Stark suppressed a frown. “Sansa, you are late for your lessons with Septa. Robb your father has visitors, you should be with him.”

   Rob and Sansa bowed their heads and quickly ran off. Their mother was obviously upset at something, but they could not tell. That left only Jon and Lady Catelyn.

   “And me? Lady Catelyn,” Jon asked with lowered eyes. He could barely see the edges of her red hair, Tully hair; just like Sansa’s.

   “Oh. Head over to the stables boy. Benjen is here. I’m sure he’ll have something for you to do.” And Lady Catelyn turned and walked away.

 

 ❦


	2. Target Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel sorry for possibly misleading in the prologue. For those hoping for Ned to survive; unfortunately those events still occur in this AU. This chapter takes place before Robert’s visit to Winterfell; several months to a year before. After this chapter things will shift ahead to Jon and Sansa meeting at the wall and follow a more standard progression. [After finishing this I did decide I might write a short dinner in Winterfell chapter] I will most likely clean up and reorganize the prologue and first chapter in the future. This moves around a lot. I’m still learning how to write consistently in one characters point of view and not in third person.
> 
> The AU as a whole will be an amalgam of the cinematic and literary storylines, but I am interested in reader input on three particular issues: 
> 
> Do you want Rickon to survive the Battle of the Bastards?  
> Do you want Aegon to exist in this AU?  
> Do you want literary canon heights for Jon/Sansa or the actual heights of Kit/Sophie?

{Arya}

   Arya struggled to pull the arrow back toward her cheekbone. It was a small bow. Jon had it made for Bran, but it was still difficult for her to knock an arrow. A horse groom idly polished a saddle and other servants and functionaries went about their business. Robb was not here. He never could be. Inevitably things would get back to mother with Robb around and she’d find some way to keep Arya busy doing other things; a punishment that wasn’t a punishment. Some times it seemed like Jon was the only one who understood her. And sometimes father.

   “Push while you pull. It will make it easier,” Jon said. Bending knee to be of a stature with her, Jon placed his hands over Arya’s; helping the young girl knock the arrow. “You’ll get it in time.”

   Arya slowly but surely got the arrow into place and let it fly at the target. It flew straight and true, hitting the target but not the bull’s-eye. “Seven hells!” Arya hissed.

   “What? It’s fine Arya. You hit the target. Some men can’t even do that. In a few months I’m sure you’ll be an expert shot,” Jon said. As he stood and tousled Arya’s head, he then saw what she was cursing about.

   Arya pouted. “It’s Sansa. Mother probably sent her to make me go sew and knit, or something equally boring.”

 {Jon}

   Sansa moved toward them slowly and deliberately. Her body language was so much like Lady Catelyn, her mother. Her blue eyed gaze bore into Arya. Arya’s brown eyes glared back. _Ice and fire_. The sisters crossed their arms in preparation for the impending confrontation. Jon may as well have been a stool for the amount of attention Sansa paid him. The groom made himself scarce.

   “Arya!” Sansa said, tapping her foot impatiently. “You know you’re supposed to be with the Septa Mordane now! Mother is furious. Why do you have to be so difficult?”

   Arya blurted back, “Jon’s teaching me to shoot a bow. It’s more fun than whatever Septa wants me to do!”

   Sansa turned her eyes on Jon. Jon mustered his courage and locked eyes with Sansa even though he just wanted to bow his head. Jon may be a son of Eddard Stark, but he was a bastard. A bastard not well liked by the Lady of Winterfell and Sansa was Catelyn Stark’s great treasure.

   “This is no concern of yours Snow. I’m sure it was all Arya’s fault, so I won’t tell mother about your involvement.”

   “Yes, m’lady; thank you,” Jon said. Jon reached for Arya’s bow.

   “But I don’t want to go!” she protested.

   “It’s best. You don’t want to upset your mother. Besides Ser Rodrik will be looking for me soon,” Jon made an excuse.

 {Sansa}

    Jon walked away. Sansa wanted to stop him. She didn’t mean to say it the way she had; just Arya frustrated her so much some times. Sansa grabbed Arya by the hand and started dragging her to the Septa.

   “Why are you so mean to Jon?” Arya asked.

   Sansa stopped her walking for a second and looked down at Arya, “I’m not mean to Jon.” Arya's words made Sansa conscious of her tone with Jon earlier. _She wasn’t mean or cruel; was she?_

   “Yes you are.” Arya retorted. “It’s because mother doesn’t like him.”

   “Mother isn’t mean to him.” Sansa turned back toward the keep and continued walking with her sister in tow.

   Arya shook her hand free of Sansa’s grasp and planted her feet firmly. “Well she’s not nice. He’s a Stark just like the rest of us!”

   Sansa turned and lowered herself to Arya’s level so that she could whisper. “Shhh! Don’t let mother hear you say that! Jon is a snow. And if mother didn’t care for him, she would have made father send him away like most nobles do with bastards…”

   “Don’t call him that!” Arya said.

   “…not let him stay in Winterfell.” Sansa finished. She turned to continue walking giving Arya a stare. _Am I going to have to drag her the whole way?_

   Arya sighed and the sister started walking in union toward the keep. “But she hardly ever calls him by his name. He isn’t allowed to eat at the table with the rest of us.”

   “We can’t do anything about that now Arya. Pray to the Father. Some day I am sure he will reward Jon’s patience with the justice that he deserves. Hurry or Septa Mordane will be cross!” Sansa said as she picked up the pace.

   “I don’t care what Septa Mordane wants. When Robb is Lord of Winterfell he will petition the king to make Jon a Stark.” Arya said with conviction. “For him to be one of us and to sit at the head table would be true justice.”

   “Maybe one day Arya, but Robb being Lord of Winterfell is a long time off,” said Sansa as she drug Arya into the knitting room.

❦


End file.
